Voyage of the Fox Rider Read Free Page B

at Rux, then turned his attention once more to the Pysk. “And…?”
    “And nothing. There was no sign of Farrix.”
    Again Alamar glowered at Jinnarin. “So…?”
    “So I came to you. Farrix always said that should trouble come calling, we could depend on Alamar the Mage to help. After all, Farrix saved you from the boar, and—”
    “So
that’s
who it was!” burst out Alamar.
“Farrix!”
A great grin spread across his face, transforming it from one of irascibility into one of discovered joy. Catching up the pot, he splashed more tea into Jinnarin’s acorn, overflowing it, the Pysk scrambling back and away from the spreading puddle. Not noticing the spill, Alamar dropped a great dollop of honey into the tiny cup, the sweet glob splashing out the rest of the tea and oozing over and down the sides. “Well, Miss—Miss…”
    “Jinnarin.” She eyed her cup with some dismay.
    “Ah yes, Jinnarin. Well, Miss Jinnarin, why didn’t you say so in the first place? Any friend of Farrix’s is a friend of mine.”
    “How can that be, Alamar? I mean, it appears as if you didn’t even know his name.”
    “I didn’t!” exclaimed the elder. “But as to him saving my life, well, it was a Pysk all right—brought that boar down with one of those tiny arrows, he did. But given the pain I was in…well, I just didn’t catch his name. He took care of me for a week or so, and when I was well enough to remain in camp alone, that’s when he fetched help. Of course, when help came, he remained hidden, and I didn’t get a chance to thank him.”
    “And you never knew his name?”
    Alamar shook his head. “I called him Pysk. It seemed enough at the time. Then he was gone and it was too late.…I always wondered, though, just who Pysk was—”
    A look of indignation filled Jinnarin’s face. “He was Farrix! Best of the Fox Riders! And it’s a wonder that he stopped to help anyone as rude as you. Imagine, not even knowing your benefactor’s name! And you slandered his fox, too!” Jinnarin folded her arms and stiffly turned her back to the Mage.
    Before Alamar could utter an astonished word—“And clean up that mess you made of my cup,” demanded Jinnarin.
    Alamar glared at her rigid back for a moment, seeming on the verge of a retort, but she faced him not. Finally, gritting his teeth, the Mage took up the acorn and dutifully washed and dried it, wiping down the table as well. And just as carefully, he refilled the minuscule vessel with herb tea, dropping in a tiny bit of wild honey to sweeten it. By this time, Jinnarin not only had cooled down, but had proceeded to a state of abject embarrassment at her outburst. And she sat with her head down, refusing to look at the Magus. For his part, Alamar had gotten over his glare, realizing the truth of her words.
    They sat in silence for a while, neither willing to say aught.
    Alamar fiddled with the bracelet on his arm, but finally—
“Ahem”
—hecleared his throat. “Has Farrix disappeared like this before?”
    “Oh yes,” answered Jinnarin softly. “Several times in the millennia I’ve known him.” She looked up at the Mage, and her eyes filled with joy. “Farrix is, well, he is filled with curiosity and cannot seem to let go until he has an answer to whatever it is that he wants to know.”
    “Hmph. Then he’d make a good apprentice.…Be that as it may, these other times, Py—Jinnarin, these other times, was he gone long?”
    “Oh yes. Seasons and seasons, in fact. Why, once he was gone for seventy-two summers.”
    Alamar drew down his shaggy white brows and turned up his palms. “But then, I don’t understand, Jinnarin. He’s only been gone this time for just over a year. Why have you come to see me?”
    “I told you: Farrix always said that if ever there was trouble, to come and see you.”
    “And just what makes you think that there’s trouble this time?”
    Jinnarin took a deep breath. “Well, Alamar, this time, you see, I’ve been having